Good Clean Fun
by SYuuri
Summary: "I thought you're going to wash my hair." - Jam ficlet


**Good Clean Fun**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own Flashpoint.**

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"It looks good." Sam commented, admiring the freshly painted wall. The wet, sticky paint glistened in the evening sun. He had served two tours in Afghanistan, tackled down plenty of highly classified and dangerous assignment, yet he felt a strange wave of satisfaction course through him for having finished such a simple, domesticated job as painting a wall.

It had taken him a full week to convince Jules to allow him to help her with her little project, and he was glad that he didn't mess up. A snort brought his attention from the wide span of blue wall in front of him to the woman standing beside him.

Clad in a black tank top that didn't hinder her mobility -and left nothing for imagination- and a pair of worn shorts, Jules never looked as carefree and relaxed as she did at the moment to him.

"_You_ look good."

He raised an eyebrow. It wasn't everyday that Jules was being flirtatious so openly with him. Not that he was complaining. "Oh yeah?"

"Because blond haired guys with a bit of a blue streak here and there are _so_ attractive."

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. His hand came up to carefully graze his hair. The tips of the short strands had gone stiff from the paint and pricked his skin. "I'm glad my help was appreciated."

"How did they get there anyway?" Jules crinkled her nose in that adorable way he'd come to love. She pulled at his hand. "Come on, let's grab a shower. I'll even wash your hair."

He grinned as he followed her out of the room. "You read my mind."

They took turns to undress each other. Once he slipped the shirt over her head and tossed it aside, he leaned down to kiss her deeply. He had endured four long hours inhaling the heady fume of the Santorini blue, he wanted his reward. Jules was an eager partner -he'd observed that home renovation always put her in a good mood- and for a while they stood in the middle of their strewn clothes in a tangle of mouths and limbs.

Jules broke the kiss first. "I thought I was going to wash your hair?"

Sam gave her another peck before releasing her from his arms. As much as he enjoyed this, he knew what was coming was even better.

She carefully stepped into the shower and turned on the tap, adjusting the heat. "You're lucky it's only spots here and there, so I think we don't have to cut your hair. Maybe next time we should get you a shower cap."

Sam grinned; he especially loved her usage of the pronoun - 'we'. He had a feeling it wasn't intentional on her part and he wasn't about to call her on it. Not when he enjoyed it so.

When he put his hands on her waist to draw her closer, she poked his chest with a warning finger. "You really want me to chop off your hair, don't you? The sooner we wash that out, the better."

Again with the 'we'.

She gestured for them to switch places until he stood under the hot water's spray and reached for his shampoo, pouring several pearly dollops onto her hand.

It was only then that they saw the problems.

"I thought you're going to wash my hair, Jules," he teased.

Her cheeks flushed crimson, either because of the heat or because of the predicament she was in he wasn't sure. Humorously, he leaned more to the latter. "Do you want me to maybe kneel or-"

"Don't be such a smart ass, Braddock," she cut him off, scowling. This was certainly one of those occasions that she cursed her diminutive stature.

Sam believed she could _and_ would mop the floor with his ass if he burst out laughing, and the thought was the only thing prevented him from losing control of himself. Well, that and something else…

"Wouldn't want you to accidentally slip and hurt yourself from standing on your tip toes, so…" With one swift move, he wounded his arms around her waist and effortlessly lifted her up, prompting her to wrap her legs around his hips. He pressed her back against the tile and looked into her eyes. "I've got the solution."

She narrowed her eyes. "Sure you do."

With one last glare that challenged him to continue -he was wise enough not to-, she surrendered her slight weight into his hands and began to lather his hair. She was well aware of the precarious position they were in, but she would be damned if she let that distract her. The husky voice in which he purred her name never failed to make her body tingle.

To no one's surprise, her determination was short lived. Her concentration in trying to break down the specks of paint on his hair interrupted when he leaned over and began to trail his mouth down her neck, dragging his tongue over the twin moles by her collar bone. Slender fingers deftly massaged his scalp the way she knew he loved and his mouth only grew more and more persistent.

She gave his hair a light tug and breathed over his ear. "Is that your infamous vintage colt or you're just happy to see me?"

He chuckled against her neck, warm breath tickling her skin. Her legs wrapped tighter around him.

"Sam,"

"Hmm?"

"_Scorpio_."

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